William Shakespeare ( 10 of 368 )
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied read more
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment,
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.
What an alteration of honour has
Desperate want made!
What an alteration of honour has
Desperate want made!
And, oftentimes, excusing of a fault,
Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse.
And, oftentimes, excusing of a fault,
Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse.
If half thy outward graces had been placed
About the thoughts and counsels of thy heart.
If half thy outward graces had been placed
About the thoughts and counsels of thy heart.
She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud,
Feed on her read more
She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud,
Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought;
And, with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat like Patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief.
What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted.
What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted.
Confusion's cure lives not
In these confusions.
Confusion's cure lives not
In these confusions.
For murder though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ.
For murder though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ.
O, what a world of vile ill-favored faults
Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year.
O, what a world of vile ill-favored faults
Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year.
